Strikes

It occurs to me that I have gotten a little more casual in my parenting. Right now my maternal instincts - once honed to razor-sharp precision - could barely slice a tomato. And I can't decide if it is just that I am chronically tired or spread more thinly or if I was a complete loonadoodle for my first five years as a mother and I have finally relaxed into something more closely resemblng normal anxiety levels.

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You know, I always resented when other mothers would imply - or, worse, explicitly state, - that I was overprotective of Patrick because he was an only child.

"I understand," they would say. "He's all you have and you're careful with him."

"Nonsense," I would retort as I fastened the bubblewrap around his chest a little tighter, adjusted his crash helmet and then settled him onto my lap before we started the three foot descent of the wide shorty slide together. "Adhering to a few safety guidelines is just good parenting no matter how many children there are in the household."

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In truth I recognized that I was wildly paranoid about Patrick's health happiness and general well-being but I assumed that this is just the way I am. I assumed that any hypothetical future Patricks would be subject to the same scrupulous anxiety that shadowed the original like a lingering eclipse. So I am surprised to realize that some time in the past six months I seem to have lost 98% of my edge. Just recently (despite being cinched into that seat tighter than a compression banadage) Caroline wiggled partially free in the swing and managed to wedge herself north by northeast. Every time she swung backwards the sidebar thwacked her on the coconut. I rescued her before she could decide if she was more upset than amused by this but still... not only would Patrick not have been left unhovered long enough to get into that predicament; I can guarantee that I would have been more upset by it. Instead, forgive me, I kind of giggled. Swing, thump, swing, thump; and Caroline looking indignantly around trying to figure out what the hell was hitting her... it was all very Stooge.

Which makes me wonder if I was just a humorless twist of nerves the first time around or if Caroline and Edward are amassing material for their justifiable class action suit against me a liitle early. If you have more than one child do you find that you were more relaxed with the younger kids about stuff that would have sent you into a tizzwozz with the first? Or - and I won't be offended, you can tell me - have I just turned into some sort of sleep-deprived thug; laughing merrily while a cat sits on the baby.

PS If you have one child do people with more ever patronize you with the whole "well, if you had more you would know..."? Used to drive me nuts. Nuts-er, I suppose I should say.